


The Art of Scraping Through

by immortal-meow (bowtieseleven)



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But nothing too intense or gory, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Richie Tozier, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Slow Burn, There's some descriptions of blood and stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-01-02 20:36:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtieseleven/pseuds/immortal-meow
Summary: Eddie hadn’t even died, but Richie had seen him die. In the deadlights. And he didn’t know how to tell Eddie. He didn’t know how to tell him that he dreamed about it every single night, and that it was still destroying him three months after it happened. And if he admitted that, he would have to explain why he cared so much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Usually if I do notes they'll be at the end of chapters but since this is the first one I wanted to put them at the beginning. 
> 
> I haven't written fanfic in literally years but there's just something about Richie and Eddie that forced me to write about them. I haven't finished the book yet (why is it so long??) so this is based off of the movie-verse.  
Please let me know if you enjoy this! Encouragement is greatly appreciated and it goes a long way towards forcing me to not procrastinate (i'm terrible).
> 
> The first couple chapters are a little shorter than the rest will be. I just wanted to get them out before I over-think everything about them.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Richie Tozier woke up screaming.

He rolled over, drenched in sweat and fumbled for his glasses, finally feeling the cold plastic beneath his shaking fingers. He put them on, trying to breathe with his heart pounding into his throat. He had to see where he was, to make sure that he wasn’t still under Neibolt house with his best friend above him, about to be skewered by an insane alien-clown-thing. 

Slowly, the white walls around him came into focus. Richie was still in his apartment far away from Derry. He was still alone. 

He sat there in his twisted sheets for what felt like hours, just breathing, trying to think of anything except for Eddie’s blood on his hands. Every dream was the same. Every dream felt so fucking _ real _. Every time Richie woke up it was with the fear that Eddie was gone forever. 

Finally, Richie felt grounded enough to find his phone, which had fallen off of the nightstand and somehow ended up under the bed. Automatically, he typed Eddie’s name into his contacts and froze when he realized what he was doing. His thumb hovered over the ‘call’ button, but like he did every night, he resisted the urge to press it. To hear Eddie’s voice, tired, but alive. To hear him breathing. He knew Eddie wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t make fun of him for it, but the thought of him knowing how broken Richie was about everything was too much to bear. Eddie hadn’t even died, but Richie had seen him die. In the deadlights. And he didn’t know how to tell Eddie. He didn’t know how to tell him that he dreamed about it every single night, and that it was still destroying him three months after it happened. And if he admitted that, he would have to explain why he cared so much.

Richie threw his phone across the bed and buried his head in his hands. He missed Eddie so much that it was an ache all the way to his core. He was beginning to realize that ever since he had left Derry, he had always missed Eddie, had always had this ache and the feeling that something crucial was missing from his life. God, how could he have forgotten? The second Richie had laid eyes on Eddie at the restaurant in Derry, it had hit him like a ton of bricks. He had gotten smashed because he couldn’t handle it. Eddie was still short and grumpy, and he still had the same stupid sense of humor and the same infuriating obsessions with cleanliness and allergies, and he was still so fucking perfect for Richie that it was unfair.

Richie glanced through his fingers at the alarm clock. The numbers glowed an eerie green through the darkness: 3 AM. Richie sighed. He knew from experience that there was no use trying to go back to sleep. He slouched to the bathroom and winced at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale and the dark circles under his eyes stood out like bruises. Right now he looked less like a semi-famous comedian and more like a madman who hadn’t showered in days, which was more accurate than Richie would like to admit.

“Eddie would think you’re disgusting,” he grumbled to himself, running a hand through his greasy curls. It was pretty pathetic to care so much about what a married man who was thousands of miles away might think of him, but that was Richie’s life now. Pathetic.

Richie turned on the shower, scalding hot the way he liked it, and stripped out of his baggy sweats and stained t-shirt. After placing his glasses carefully on the shelf above the sink, he stepped under the water and turned his face into it, eyes closed. His skin stung from the heat. It was blissful to feel a few days of stress wash away into the drain along with the sweat and grime. Richie sighed, running a hand over his face, flinging the water out of his eyes. He opened them blearily and stared down at his feet, letting the water run down his back. It felt like a caress.  
Richie squeezed his eyes shut again. Despite himself, he imagined Eddie standing behind him, washing his back gently. If Richie really concentrated he could almost feel the man’s soft but strong hands on him. He shuddered, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“Thanks, Eds,” he murmured.

“Don't call me that,” Eddie said. “And you're filthy, Rich."

“Your mom didn’t seem to mind last night.”

Eddie just snorted, his hands moving to Richie’s hair. Richie had to suppress a groan.

“I’m surprised you can reach,” he said. He could feel Eddie’s glare at the back of his head but the other man didn’t say anything.

“I miss you,” Richie said to no one. “I miss you so fucking much, Eds.”

Eddie’s hands in his hair stilled.

“I know, Rich. But you never call. I’m worried about you.”

“You never call either,” Richie muttered.

“I’m sure I have my reasons. Just...stop being a dickhead and call.”

Richie shook his head and felt Eddie’s hands drop away. He suddenly felt that something was very wrong.

“Eddie?” Richie asked, eyes popping open. He twisted around, forgetting that it was all in his head. To his horror, Eddie was there, but he looked like he had in the tunnels under Neibolt, pale, dirty and scared. The gaping hole in his chest was gushing blood, just like in Richie’s dreams. The water swirling around his feet had turned into blood as well, gurgling thickly down the drain.  
Richie stumbled forwards towards Eddie, almost slipping.

“Eds,” he gasped, reaching for him. “Eddie, no.”

“Richie,” Eddie said brokenly, and then he disappeared.

“Eddie!” Richie screamed. But when he blinked, the blood was gone. Eddie had never been there.  
Richie was going insane.

“I need some fucking sleep,” he mumbled, turning the water off. He watched the rest of it disappear down the drain before stepping out. So much for a relaxing shower. Richie was giving up on ever having a normal life after coming back from Derry. After seeing Eddie again and almost losing him, and realizing that he was still as in love with him as he had ever been, and even more. He didn’t know what to do.

Richie did know something. He needed Eddie. He needed Eddie and he couldn’t have him.

He also knew that he needed to call Eddie before he truly lost his mind.

***

In New York City, Eddie Kaspbrak woke with a start.

He glanced over at the lump of his snoring wife in the bed and sighed. He tried to sit up and winced at the twinge in his side where Pennywise had punctured him. Eddie wondered if it would always hurt - a cruel reminder of how close he had come to dying. And he would have it if wasn’t for Richie.

Richie, who he had hardly heard a peep from in three months. Eddie thought about calling him every day, but it never seemed like the right time. They had so much to talk about.  
After Eddie’s near-death experience, when they were all safe and he was in the hospital, they had talked, a little. But, they had been exhausted and Richie had seemed to just want to listen to Eddie’s ramblings and make dumb jokes, and look at him in that strange way that Eddie could now remember from when they were kids.

He remembered Richie lying to the hospital staff to get in Eddie’s room. He remembered Richie climbing into his hospital bed so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. They had slept far better that night than two people who had been through what they had should, Eddie thought. But he and Richie had always defied all odds together. Or so he had thought.

Eddie wondered every day if Richie was forgetting him again. The thought made his chest grow tight and he had to fight the urge to reach for his now non-existent inhaler. His memories of Richie were as strong as they had been after going back to Derry, but Eddie had no idea what the rules were, or if there even were any. Maybe Richie didn’t care about him as much as Eddie…

Eddie sighed, flopping himself back into bed in resignation. He couldn’t let himself go down that path. If Richie wanted to get ahold of Eddie, he would. Eddie's scar throbbed and he rubbed it, weary of everything.

When Richie finally called, Eddie was going to kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie tried to call, he really did. 

The first time he really tried was a couple nights after his shower hallucination episode or whatever the fuck it was. He was sitting in his dressing room in the wake of his first show back, which had been an unmitigated disaster. The look that Richie’s manager had given him as he had slunk backstage made Richie cringe. He kept typing Eddie’s name into his contacts, then deleting it, over and over until the word ‘Eddie’ seemed wrong somehow. 

A knock at his door startled him so badly that he almost threw his phone at it.

“What is it?” he called, not even trying to sound welcoming. He only felt a little bad when a scared looking intern poked her head in, eyes wide. 

“Mr. Tozier, sir, there’s some news stations here to ask you some questions, should I tell them…”

“Tell them to fuck off,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “No interviews.”

The girl only nodded vigorously before disappearing as quickly as she had come. Richie didn’t blame her. He wasn’t exactly a joy to be around lately. But the last thing he wanted was reporters yelling in his face, asking questions that Richie didn’t want to give answers to. 

Richie looked back down at his phone and sighed in defeat. He had to do something.

So without thinking about it he typed Bev’s name and called. He fidgeted as the phone rang, once, twice. Before it could ring a third time Bev picked up.

“Richie?” 

Her voice was scratchy with sleep. Oops, time zones were a thing weren’t they. 

“Er,” Richie said, “Sorry to wake you Bev.”

“Are you okay?” Beverly asked, sounding more awake. She must have heard something in his voice. Bev was always the one who noticed the little things like that.

“I’m fine,” Richie said. Then after a couple seconds of silence, “Well, not really.”

“Tell me about it.”

Richie could hear sheets rustling in the background and Bev whispering something unintelligible to someone. Probably Ben. Richie was happy for them, he really was, and he wasn’t jealous at all. Not in the slightest. 

“Is now a good time? I can call you in the morning,” he asked, guiltily.

“It’s fine, Richie, don’t be ridiculous. I want to talk to you. We haven’t really spoken since…”

“I know, I know,” he sighed.

“Have you talked to any of the Losers?” Bev asked gently. She sounded like she already knew the answer, and knowing Bev, she probably did.

Truthfully, Richie had traded a few text messages here and there with most of them, mainly Bill, but he knew that’s not what Beverly meant. 

She took his silence for the admission it was. 

“So you haven’t talked to E…”

Richie cut her off, sounding more on edge than he meant to.

“No!” Then, softly, “No. I...I’ve been having a really hard time here Bev.”

“I’m sorry, Rich,” she said, sounding genuinely pained for him. “But if you haven’t talked to anyone else yet, why did you call me now?”

“I was trying to call him, but I just couldn’t do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Richie was beginning to feel frantic, the words pouring out of him before he could stop them. Somehow he knew Bev would understand. She had to. “I’ve been having nightmares about him, and it’s because I saw him...I saw him die in the deadlights, like you did with Stan, and I miss him so fucking much Bev.”

“Okay, okay Richie, you need to slow down,” Beverly said gently, cutting him off. “You saw Eddie die in the deadlights?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, running a hand over his face. He clutched the phone tighter like it would bring him closer to her comforting presence. 

“Oh, Rich I’m so sorry,” Bev said. She sounded like her heart was breaking.

“I saw him die right after he saved me,” Richie continued, his voice rough. He cleared his throat but he could feel a telltale prickling at the corners of his eyes. “When I woke up I saw it was coming true and I pushed him out of the way at the last second.”

Richie swallowed, the memories threatening to overwhelm him. He pushed on, painfully. He needed to get it out.

“I know he’s alive and he’s okay now, but every time I fall asleep I see it happening like it did in the deadlights. And every time I try to call him, my mind goes crazy. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? He doesn’t need to be dealing with whatever....issues I have.”

“Richie,” Bev said firmly. She could probably sense that he was about to freak out again. “Have you ever wondered if Eddie might be going through some of the same things as you? I’m sure we’ve all been having nightmares, I know I have.”

Richie shook his head, as if Bev could see it through the phone. 

“No, this isn’t just nightmares. I fucking hallucinated him yesterday Bev.”

Beverly was silent for a long moment, until Richie was worried that he had said something wrong. 

“You love him don’t you,” she finally said. It wasn’t a question.

Richie almost dropped the phone. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, heart pounding out of his chest. 

“Richie?” Bev was asking. “Richie, are you there?”

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled. “Jesus, Bev.” 

“Is that what this is all about?” she asked. “That’s why you won’t call him?”

“I don’t know,” Richie said miserably. 

Beverly sighed. Richie could just see her pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers in frustration. He knew he deserved it.

“Richie, Eddie cares about you. A lot. You’re his best friend and he misses you too. Just call him, or I’ll come over there and force you to call him, okay?”

Despite himself, Richie smiled. 

“Okay.”

“And Rich, if you need someone, I can be there tomorrow. I don’t want you to be alone if you’re really struggling,” Bev said, sounding serious. 

“I’m okay, Bev. I promise. But thank you,” Richie said. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I should let you go. It’s late as fuck and I’m sure Benny-boy is waiting for you. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Richie!” Bev said, but she was laughing. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I will be.”

Long after they had hung up, Richie sat with his head in his hands hoping that he had told her the truth. 

**********

Eddie felt like a stalker. Ever since getting back from Derry he had been watching videos of Richie’s sets, looking out for tour information, celebrity gossip, pretty much anything he could find. He didn’t know why he cared so much, but he wanted to know what Richie was doing. 

All he had found that was recent was rumors about why Richie had been MIA for so long. Ideas ranged from Richie having been kidnapped by the Illuminati to him being on the run from the law for drug dealing. They all gave Eddie a good laugh. 

It was weird, him being one of the only ones who knew the truth. At least up to a point. One thing he didn’t know was why Richie had waited three months after getting back to do another gig. When Eddie had gotten back to New York, he had thrown himself into his work as soon as his doctor said he could. It was the only way he wouldn’t be thinking about what had happened constantly. 

Maybe he had thrown himself in a little too hard. 

Now, Eddie was sat in his car in the parking garage at his work, holding his phone and trying not to cry. He had watched a recording of Richie’s first show in three months. It had been yesterday. Richie Tozier the comedian, finally back.

Eddie had hardly paid any attention to the jokes or the audience’s reactions. He had just watched Richie. The recording had been taken by some idiot who couldn’t hold their phone straight so the video was shaky, but Eddie could still see how awful Richie looked. His mass of curly hair was longer and messier than Eddie remembered, and the dark circles under his eyes stood out against his pale skin. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months. He also looked profoundly unhappy.

Eddie liked to think he knew Richie better than just about anyone. He could always tell when Richie’s jokes and flippant attitude were a cover for the fact that he was hurting about something. He hadn’t always been able to find out what it was, but he had always been able to just be there. And that had been enough. But now he could tell that Richie was miserable, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

It hurt more than Eddie wanted to admit. 

He should have contacted him, he should have checked up on him. What kind of a best friend was he? Richie deserved better. 

Eddie looked down at his phone. He didn’t know if he could help with whatever was up with Richie, but he had to try. He shifted in his seat, feeling his side twinge in protest. Myra was expecting him home for dinner and she wouldn’t be happy if he was late. 

Eddie was surprised to discover that he didn’t really care. 

He closed his eyes, picturing Richie when he had woken him up from the deadlights. At first he had looked confused, then relieved, then something else that Eddie couldn’t quite place. Then there had just been horrible, stark fear. That’s when Richie had saved Eddie’s life. The worst part was that he didn’t even remember if he had thanked him. Everything had been such a blur after escaping from the sewers. The only moment that was still clear as crystal in his memory was Richie curled around him in his hospital bed, solid, and warm, and real. Eddie longed for that again. He used to feel guilty about wanting that but he didn’t anymore.

An abrupt buzzing startled Eddie into opening his eyes. He looked down at his lap. The screen was lit up with a name.

Richie fucking Tozier was calling Eddie.


	3. Chapter 3

**1989 - ** **The summer after Pennywise**

Eddie reached into his fanny pack for more sunscreen, smearing it onto his arms and legs absentmindedly. The sun was beating down felt hot against his skin and Eddie’s mother’s voice was screeching in his head about skin cancer.

If Eddie got skin cancer he was blaming Richie. He had agreed to meet him at the lake at one, and that had been half an hour ago. Eddie had been checking his watch every minute with increasing annoyance, listening for the squeal of Richie’s bike tires. He wasn’t surprised that Richie was late, he always was, but he wasn’t usually this late.

Eddie pulled his knees to his chest, looking up through the leaves of the tree that partially shaded him from the sun. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of the sun screen. Richie always told him that the stuff was the reason why he was so pale, but Eddie could only think of the stories his mother had told him about people who tanned becoming all wrinkled and leathery. He shuddered and started to dig for the sunscreen again.

A noise behind him stopped him, and he turned to see Richie walking his bike up the gravel path. His dark curls were messier than usual, and his glasses glinted in the sunlight. 

“Richie!” Eddie called to him, standing up and brushing himself off. “Why are you so…”

The words died in his mouth as Richie came closer. Eddie widened his eyes, looking him up and down.

“I know I look hot Eds, but you could be a little more subtle,” Richie grinned, but the blood dripping from his split top lip made it look more morbid than anything. He also had the beginnings of a black eye, his shirt was torn at the arm, and his glasses were cracked. He looked like a mess.

“What happened to you?” Eddie asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“I wrecked my bike, no big deal,” Richie shrugged, throwing the bike in question down beside Eddie’s. He was trying to look nonchalant but Eddie could see right through his act. 

“Bullshit,” Eddie snapped. Richie jumped and looked at Eddie in surprise. 

“What?” he asked, but he blinked nervously behind his thick glasses, giving himself away.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You didn’t fall off your bike! Who falls off their bike and gets one black eye?”

“Geez, okay Sherlock Holmes,” Richie muttered. He looked down at his scuffed up sneakers, refusing to meet Eddie’s accusatory gaze. “You got me. It was Bowers’ gang. They caught me behind the pharmacy.”

“Come here,” Eddie said sharply, gesturing to Richie. 

Richie stepped closer to him, still not looking up. His bloody lip was quivering and Eddie’s heart melted. Richie was always the one who pretended not to care, but he was the one who probably cared the most. 

Eddie gently put a hand to Richie’s cheek. He didn’t know where this tenderness was coming from, but right now he just wanted to make sure Richie was okay.

“Look at me Rich,” he said, more quietly. 

And Richie did, lifting his eyes to meet Eddie’s. They were wide and dark, and glistening. Eddie wondered if he was about to cry. 

He gently moved his hand to the black eye, gingerly touching it until Richie hissed. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, and moved to Richie’s busted lip, which was still slowly leaking blood.

He dug around in his fanny pack until he found a handkerchief and he brought it to Richie’s lip, dabbing at the cut. He didn’t realize how close his face was to Richie’s until Richie, who had been standing stock still until then, shifted, grasping Eddie’s wrist with his hand. 

“What are you doing there Eds?” Richie asked. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown, and a dark flush was rising on his cheeks. Eddie wondered if he was feeling okay.

Eddie frowned. “Just...trying to help I guess.”

“Well, never become a doctor because you’re terrible at it,” Richie said, a little weakly.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled. He looked down at his hand, still clutching the bloody handkerchief. He lifted it up, holding it by the corner. “You want this? Your lip is still bleeding and I don’t want to get AIDS or something from your blood.”

“Weirdo,” Richie said, but it was fond, and he accepted the handkerchief, holding it to his lips. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Don’t call me that. Now you gonna tell me what happened?”

The weird moment between them was broken, and, to Eddie’s frustration, Richie looked away again.

“It was stupid. They were hanging out behind the pharmacy and they saw me when I was walking by.” He licked his lips, grimacing at the taste of blood. “They saw me and started yelling some shit at me. I guess I just freaked out at them and they didn’t like it. You know the rest.” He gestured to his face exaggeratedly.

Eddie frowned again and crossed his arms, peering at Richie with suspicion. “What exactly were they saying? They’ve said plenty of shit to us and you’ve never cared that much.”

Richie shrugged, almost angrily. “It doesn’t fucking matter, okay? It was something bad and they shouldn’t have been saying it. It was obviously stupid of me to say anything, but I did, and I couldn’t just let it slide.”

“But why?” Eddie was trying to understand what could have been so bad that Bowers and his idiots hadn’t said before.

“Drop it, Eddie,” Richie snapped, then sighed tiredly. “Sorry, they just pissed me off so much. I fucking hate this town.”

Eddie stayed silent, unsure of what to say. He jumped when Richie threw an arm over his shoulder, grinning like nothing had happened.

“But it’s okay, you and me, we’ll get out of here as soon as we can. Together. You’ll get away from your insane mom and we won’t have to deal with ignorant assholes anymore.”

“There are ignorant assholes everywhere, Richie,” Eddie said, but he was smiling too. “And I’m pretty sure you’re one of ‘em.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Richie said. His arm dropped from Eddie’s shoulders and he turned and began to run towards the lake. “Come on, let’s swim already,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m melting in this heat.”

Eddie ran after him, almost tripping in his haste to catch up. “Hey, wait up you asshole!”

*****

Richie was glad that Eddie hadn’t pushed the subject of what Bower’s gang had been saying. Usually Eddie was as stubborn as a mule, but he had apparently taken the hint that it was something that Richie didn’t want to discuss. Eddie didn’t need to know that it had been about him, and that was the only reason that Richie had gotten involved.

He was waiting for Eddie to get dressed again. The sun had started to dip down low enough in the sky that the boys were shivering in the water and Eddie was complaining about how his mom would be pissed at him if he didn’t get home soon. Richie glanced over at Eddie, who was pulling on his stupid polo shirt and muttering about catching a chill. He looked away quickly as if the sight had burned him.

Richie reached into his pocket to feel the handkerchief that Eddie had given him, Richie’s blood crusted onto it now. He could still feel the ghost of Eddie’s warm fingers brushing against his skin, startlingly tender, and he shivered, attributing it to the chill of the breeze. Eddie had been so close to him. Richie had been able to see every freckle on his pale skin, the wrinkle forming in between his eyes from frowning at Richie’s mom jokes, even the dust on his thick eyelashes. Richie hoped that Eddie hadn’t been able to tell how much that had affected him. To have Eddie’s whole, undivided attention on him had been overwhelming, and Richie wanted more.

It had just slipped out about him wanting to leave Derry together with Eddie, but he had been thinking about it for longer than he wanted to admit. He knew that he would never have a better friend than Eddie as long as he lived.

“Hey, whatchya staring at?”

Richie jumped and turned to see Eddie smirking at him. His dark hair was still wet and was flopping into his eyes. Richie felt a sudden, strong urge to push out of the way, but balled his hands into fists before they could betray him.

“Nothing,” he said, a little too quickly. “Come on, let’s get you back to prison before the guard notices you’re gone and decides to break out the electric chair.”

Eddie’s smirk slipped into his typical frown. “Haha, very funny. I thought you loved my mom.” He made little kissy noises at Richie, who wrinkled his nose.

“Not since she’s become such a hard ass about letting you hang out with me. I think in her mind I broke your arm myself.”

“I’ve tried to tell her that it wasn’t your fault but she won’t listen. I don’t care what she thinks anyway.” Eddie said the last part all in a rush, his cheeks turning pink under Richie’s gaze.

That was a lie, but Richie knew what he meant, and his chest grew pleasantly warm and tight.

“Prove it then,” he said as they picked up their bikes from under the tree.

“What?”

“Prove it. Stay at my house tonight. We’ll listen to shitty music and eat crappy food, and just hang out.” He almost balked at the look on Eddie’s face, but there was at least a sliver of hope left, so he forged on. “C’mon Eds, it’ll be fun. You know it will be.”

“Richie…”

“You can’t let her control your life forever. You’ll be miserable,” Richie said quickly, sensing rejection. “You know I’m right.”

“Shut up, Rich,” Eddie said, but he sounded amused. “I was going to say yes.”

Richie gaped at him and this time it was his turn to blush. “You were? I was like ninety-nine percent sure you were going to tell me to fuck off.”

“Yeah, well, you never were any good at math.”

Richie gave Eddie the finger, but he couldn’t stop smiling so the effect was ruined.

“Wanna stop by your house to tell your mom the good news?” he asked as they got on their bikes.

“Naw,” Eddie said. “I’ll just call her from your place. That way she can’t kill you like I’m sure she’ll want to.”

That was the first night they ever shared a bed. Richie’s long body wrapped around Eddie’s short one, Eddie stealing the blanket and Richie yanking it back until they both almost fell out of the bed. But despite the chaos, neither boy felt like they had gotten such good sleep in a long time.

**27 Years Later**

Richie almost hung up after the first ring. He was sitting in bed, the sheets wrapped around his legs, a near empty wine glass on his night stand. His lips moved in a silent mantra of ‘please, please, please’. If Eddie didn’t pick up, Richie didn’t know when he’d get up the nerve again.

Finally, after the fifth ring, Richie heard a click and then static. Then, “Rich?”

Richie almost cried at the nickname. Eddie sounded unsure of himself, like maybe he wasn’t sure that it was really Richie sitting there at the other end of the line.

“Eddie,” Richie said, breathing the name like a prayer. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

There was a silence in which Richie could only hear Eddie’s breathing. When he finally spoke, his voice was an octave higher. Richie winced. He was in for it.

“Sorry for what? For never calling to check on me? For never calling to just at least say ‘Hey Eddie, what’s up? I know you almost got killed by a fucking clown and I wanted to see how you’re doing.’ Because that would have been so hard. You never even texted! I thought you fucking forgot about me, again man! You suck, Tozier.” He paused to take a breath, started to say something else and then stopped. “Are you really _laughing_ right now?”

Richie wasn’t. He was crying, but he was smiling at the same time, a hand pressed to his mouth to try to stifle the sound. He swallowed, cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

“I just really fucking missed you, Eds,” he said when he felt like he could properly speak.

There was another silence and Richie was prepared for Eddie to go off on him again, but Eddie just sighed and said, quietly, “I missed you too, Trashmouth. That’s why I’m pissed at you.”

Richie let out a breath he had been holding in relief.

“I know, and I deserve it. But you never called either. And did you really think I forgot about you again? It’s hard to forget someone so annoying one time, much less twice.”

Eddie laughed even though it wasn’t really funny, and god, Richie had forgotten how much he loved that sound.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have any right to be mad at you, do I?”

“You can be a little mad,” Richie said, and he marveled at how easily they were slipping back into their easy dynamic. “You just have to let me be a little mad at you too.”

He wasn’t mad at all, but he knew Eddie wasn’t either. That was their thing. Pretending to be pissed at each other all the time even though they never really were.

Eddie hummed thoughtfully and Richie could almost see the look on his face: eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed slightly.

“I watched your show,” he said after a minute.

Richie’s heart dropped. There was no question which show Eddie meant.

“Uh, you did? Then you know it was complete and utter shit.”

“No, but I noticed that you look like complete and utter shit.”

“Eddie, I’m offended. How could you say that? I’ve been working out lately too, just for you.”

“I’m serious, Richie,” Eddie said in a tone that made Richie swallow the rest of his smartass comments. “How have you been doing? And don’t lie to me.”

Richie sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He moved the phone to his left hand, reaching for the wine glass and draining it with one gulp. He never could successfully lie to Eddie, so there was no point in trying now.

“Not great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie, but a massive understatement. “I…haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Me neither,” Eddie said. “But I don’t look like a dead person walking.”

“I’ve been having nightmares. Bad ones. Really fucking bad ones. I don’t think I’ve truly slept in months.”

“Fuck, Rich,” Eddie breathed. “That sounds bad.” His voice was tight and Richie could tell he was upset. “Have you seen anyone?”

“You mean a shrink?” Richie scoffed. “Fuck, no.” He had thought about it, sure, but he was pretty sure a therapist couldn’t fix what was wrong with him. No one would believe him anyway. What would he even say?

_Hey, doc, I’ve been having nightmares about my best friend, who I’m in love with, being skewered by an alien-clown-thing even though it didn’t really happen because I saw it happen and I saved his life._

Yeah, no.

Eddie sniffed, obviously disapproving. “Well, that’s your choice. I think it would help though.”

“Have you seen anyone?” Richie asked pointedly. Eddie’s silence was answer enough.

“How are you doing, Eds?” Richie asked after Eddie still hadn’t said anything, trying to ease the tension that had sprung up.

“I’m fine, Richie,” Eddie said, but Richie could detect the weariness behind it.

“Now who’s lying?” he pointed out.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Fair enough. I haven’t been sleeping great, but better than you it sounds like. My cheek is fine, there’s just a hideous scar there now.” Richie rolled his eyes. He was sure that it looked just fine, as if anything could make Eddie’s face look anything less than perfect. “My side still hurts sometimes,” Eddie went on. “Not too bad, but it’s super fucking annoying.”

Richie frowned at that. Pennywise hadn’t gotten Eddie that badly. There had been a lot of blood, too much, but he had been fine just a few days after.

“Have you had it checked out?”

“Of course I have, it’s me you’re talking to,” Eddie snorted. “They say it’s fine and that it’s phantom pain or some bullshit like that. It probably is just in my head like every other thing that’s ever been wrong with me.”

That didn’t quell Richie’s worry but he sensed it would be unwelcome, so he tamped it down, opting for humor instead.

“I guess we’re both a bit fucked in the brain, huh?” he said.

“I guess so,” Eddie agreed.

There was another silence, but it was warm this time, and Richie was struck with an overwhelming longing to have Eddie there with him in his too-big bed in his too-big apartment. He swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t betray his thoughts.

Then Eddie cleared his throat, almost nervously. “Hey, Rich, I’ve been thinking.”  
“Yeah?” Richie asked absentmindedly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking that, well, I’m pretty sick of New York, and my job, and…and I need a break.” The words shook Richie out of his thoughts abruptly. He held his breath, waiting fearfully for Eddie to continue.

“I thought that, maybe, I could visit LA for a bit? Visit you? Do you think that would be okay?” He sounded so uncertain, so small. It broke Richie’s heart. He wanted to reach into the phone and shake him and yell, “Yes, of course it’s okay, you idiot. Of course it’s okay, it’s all I want. I’m so fucking in love with you!”

Instead, he just smiled into his phone and breathed, “Yeah. Yeah that would be great.”

“Okay, then,” Eddie said, and Richie could tell he was smiling too. “Perfect.”

After that, neither of them wanted to go, but Eddie had to get home. They hung up after promising to make plans and saying a rather drawn out goodbye that involved a lot of bad jokes on Richie's part.

That night, Richie almost slept through the whole night without a bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about the length that (I hope) the rest of them will be, now that I'm finally hitting my writing stride again. I've actually been so excited to work on this, and I'm having a lot of fun with it so far! 
> 
> Oh, and thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter. Even the simplest comment makes my whole day and you guys are so sweet. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.


	4. Chapter 4

Richie squinted at the arrival screens, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. He had checked Eddie’s flight information maybe a million times, but he kept having to double check, just in case. If he missed Eddie’s flight he would never forgive himself. When Richie was beginning to feel like he was going to burst with impatience, he felt a buzzing in his pocket and he answered before he even checked who it was.

“Richie?” Eddie asked when Richie found his voice wasn’t working. “Where are you? I’m here in the baggage claim.” He sounded out of breath.

Richie immediately turned and scanned the packed baggage claim, his heart beating into his throat.

“I’m by carousel 4,” he said, still craning his neck to see above the masses of people. “Where are you?”

“Here,” Eddie said, except his voice was clear and bright, and wasn’t coming through a tinny speaker anymore. Richie whipped around, his phone almost sliding out of his hand, forgotten. Eddie was standing there, looking uncertain but happy. He was wearing a blue polo shirt, which, of course he was, and he looked even smaller than Richie remembered. He had always felt protective towards Eddie, but now he felt it flare up hotter than ever.

Richie opened his mouth and thankfully, something coherent came out.

“Fuck, Eds, you can’t sneak up on me like that. I’m getting old.” Richie reached towards him, grinning, then stopped, suddenly unsure. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m short, not fragile, idiot. Come on and hug me.”

So Richie did. He lunged towards Eddie, whose eyes grew big with something like alarm, before he enveloped him in his arms. Eddie stiffened at first, obviously surprised at Richie’s intensity, but he soon relaxed into it, laughing a little and rubbing Richie’s back. He smelled like laundry detergent and hand sanitizer, and only faintly like airplane food.

“Hey, hey, Rich,” Eddie said softly, clearly unsure of what to do. “You okay there?”

“I missed you,” Richie muttered into Eddie’s soft hair, which smelled very clean and faintly lemony.

He felt solid and warm and Richie never wanted to let him go.

“Richie,” Eddie said after a minute. “People are staring.”

Richie lifted his head to glare at a woman who was gawking at them from across the room. She looked away and he smirked. “Let them stare.”

“But aren’t you a celebrity or something.” Eddie tried to pull away and, reluctantly, Richie let him.

“Yeah, so?”

“Never mind.” Eddie sighed. He straightened out his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. “I missed you too, Trashmouth.”

“Need help with your bag?” Richie gestured towards the baggage claim. “Or should I say bags?”

“Actually, I only brought one,” Eddie said, glaring at him. “And I can get it.”

Richie didn’t protest. It gave him a chance to get a good, sneaky look at Eddie as he walked towards the bag carousel. He definitely looked a little thinner than when Richie last saw him, and his hair was a little longer. Richie made a mental note to make sure Eddie ate enough while he was there, and not just rabbit food either or whatever he usually ate. The hair suited him though. It was falling slightly into his eyes. It made him look younger and it reminded Richie of how it had looked when they were kids.

Richie had been right about Eddie’s scar. It was just a thin line on his face, still a tiny bit pink, but it was hardly hideous. Richie imagined himself kissing it gently, assuring Eddie that it was as beautiful as the rest of him. Then he realized what he was doing and blushed. He was a fucking forty-year-old man, but that’s what Eddie did to him. He made him feel like a kid again.

After a few minutes, Richie took pity on Eddie and walked over to join him by the carousel where he was struggling with a bag that was almost as big as he was.

“Just one, huh.” Richie deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. Eddie gave him a look that was almost scathing.

“Are you going to stand there wisecracking or help me, asshole?”

Richie reached over him and picked up the bag.

“Your wish is my command,” he winked, then hissed, almost dropping it on the ground. “Jesus Eddie, this is heavy. What the fuck did you bring? An entire meth lab?”

“No,” Eddie said, his eyebrows scrunched together. He crossed his arms, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to bring, and this was kind of a last minute thing. In case you haven’t figured it out, I suck at travelling.”

“Oh, I’ve figured it out,” Richie said, but he was smiling. He reached out and ruffled Eddie’s hair, unable to resist feeling it between his fingers. Eddie yelped, really pouting now, his lower lip jutting out sullenly.

“I should have known you were going to just constantly make fun of me,” he muttered.

“Oh, come on. You love it,” Richie grinned. “Now if that’s it and you don’t have any other portable pharmacies with you, let’s get out of here.”

“Fine,” Eddie said, perking up a little. “Lead the way.”

“Hungry?” Richie asked as he squeezed past the crowds of people waiting for their luggage. “I know a great place…”

“What options do they have…?”

“Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

Eddie looked uncertain, but he followed Richie all the same.

“Whatever you say. As long as there’s no peanuts. Remember when…”

“Of course I remember,” Richie said. They had been fourteen and Eddie had almost died on Halloween from eating chocolate with peanuts in it. The memory washed over him, bringing with it the fear he had felt at the prospect of losing Eddie. “You looked real funny with your face all swollen up.”

Richie couldn’t see Eddie’s face now but he could practically feel the eyeroll from behind him.

“Thanks, asshole.”

“No problem. Now hurry your ass up. I’m getting sick of all these people.”

When they finally wrestled Eddie’s bag out of the terminal and into the parking garage, it was getting dark. Richie had forgotten where he parked his car, he had other things on his mind to be fair, so they ended up wandering around half the parking garage, Richie periodically pressing the lock button on his keychain. Eddie followed, muttering about being hungry, and how Richie was the biggest dumbass he had ever known. Richie snarked about how at least he wasn’t having to lug his ridiculously massive luggage around and Eddie gave him the silent treatment for all of five minutes.

It was perfect.

When the car was finally found – “Aha! Told you it wouldn’t take long.” “Fuck you, Richie.” – they piled in, hungry and tired.

“So,” Richie said, starting up the car while Eddie fussed with his seatbelt. “Food. I had a place in mind but you look exhausted and so am I, so, takeout?”

Eddie sighed. “Sounds great. I need a shower as soon as possible. Apparently, the fold-down trays on planes have more germs on them than anywhere else. I never use them but I can still just feel all the baby and old person diseases crawling around on me.”

“Gross.” Richie peeled out of the parking spot maybe a little too quickly, narrowly avoiding a young couple. The guy gave him the finger, but he ignored it and also Eddie’s glare. “Besides, you’re an old person too now.”

Eddie didn’t even grace him with a response. Instead he just looked out the window. His eyes were starting to droop and Richie knew how he felt.

“My apartment is only a half hour away, don’t fall asleep on me yet.”

Even as he spoke them, the words jerked Richie into a sudden memory of himself, pleading with a white-faced Eddie to stay awake, to not go to sleep. There had been so much blood. How could so much blood come out of someone so small without them dying?

“Rich? Richie?”

The voice jerked Richie out of his trance. He was stopped in the middle of the parking garage and a car was honking behind him. Eddie was looking at him with concern, eyebrows knitted together. There wasn’t a drop of blood on him. He was safe.

“Are you okay, man?” he asked, looking a little scared. “It was like you blacked out for a second.”

“I’m fine,” Richie said sharply. He shifted the car into drive and started to go.

Eddie bit his lip, glancing at Richie’s hands which were clenched around the steering wheel so tightly they were turning white. “You sure? Do you want me to drive?”

Richie relaxed his grip with a sigh. “I’m sure. I just…got a little lost in thought.” Even though he was staring straight ahead he could feel Eddie’s eyes still on him. Richie found himself wishing that Eddie would just get mad at him. It would be easier than the compassion.

They drove in silence almost the whole way to Richie’s apartment. The place wasn’t anything too special, but Eddie still looked impressed as they pulled up.

“Swanky,” he whistled. “Do you have a pool?”

“The complex has a pool,” Richie said. “But it’s always filled with little kids.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose exactly the way Richie knew he would. “Never mind then.”

Richie laughed, parking in his spot that he paid a ridiculous amount for. He got Eddie’s bag out of the back and thanked whoever was up there that the apartment complex had an elevator.

When they were finally in Richie’s apartment with the door shut behind them, Richie realized that they were really and truly alone.

“Well, we’re here.” He said it a little too loudly, glancing over at Eddie who was looking around with a mix of appreciation at how big it was and amusement at Richie’s attempt to clean up for him. “Want me to order something while you shower?”

“Sure,” Eddie shrugged.

“You’re sleeping on the fold-out, hope that’s okay. Bathroom is over there.” Richie gestured with his thumb while making a bee-line towards his massive pile of takeout menus. He grabbed one from the top and squinted at it. “How does Chinese sound?”

“Fine. Just order me rice and veggies,” Eddie called from the direction of the bathroom.

Richie ordered him that and some chicken as well. The man needed protein.

Fifteen minutes later, Richie was trying not to fall asleep on the couch. He turned at the sounds of the bathroom door opening to see Eddie coming out, just a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair damp.

Richie gawked, unable to stop himself. He hadn’t seen Eddie’s bare chest in so long, at least when it wasn’t covered in blood. He was as pale as ever, but he had more freckles spattered across his collarbones and chest than Richie remembered from when they were kids. He obviously worked out too. He didn’t have abs or anything but he was toned in all the right places. The towel was slung low enough that Richie could see the beginning of a trail of dark hairs, standing out against his pale skin. Richie had to close his mouth just to keep from drooling. The only thing he didn’t like was the fact that he could see Eddie’s ribs. He wondered why Myra wasn’t making sure he was eating enough.

“What?” Eddie asked, noticing where Richie’s gaze was. He looked down at himself self-consciously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Richie said a little tightly. He swallowed, cursing at himself to get a grip. “Just not used to having a half-naked man in my living room.” He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding funny.

Thankfully, Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He was looking pointedly away from Richie, blushing. “Sorry, I realized I didn’t bring any clean clothes in there with me and I didn’t want to put the other ones back on.”

“You’re fine, man. I’m just giving you a hard time. You’d better get dressed before the food gets here though. Don’t need the delivery person to get an eye-full.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but, blessedly, he quickly grabbed some clothes out of his bag and disappeared back into the bathroom. When he heard the lock click, Richie let out a breath, throwing his head back against the couch. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the image Eddie’s freckle spattered collar bones out of his head. It didn’t work.

“Fucking hell,” Richie breathed, wondering if this was a mistake. He was already hard and Eddie had barely gotten there.

Richie was so totally fucked.

*****

Eddie opened the takeout boxes while Richie paid. It sounded like the delivery guy was a fan and Richie was trying to get rid of him without straight up telling him to fuck off.

Finally, Richie joined him, muttering about crazy fans.

“Hey, Rich?” Eddie asked, peering into all the cartons again. “Did you get me chicken?”

“Did you not want chicken? Shoot, I must have messed it up,” Richie said cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all.

Eddie looked up at him suspiciously. “Whatever, it’s fine.”

They sat on the couch to eat because Richie’s table was covered in papers and takeout menus, and Richie pulled up Netflix.

“What you wanna watch?” he asked, his mouth full of noodles.

“Ooh, there’s a nature documentary I’ve been wanting to watch about sea turtles. I heard it’s…”

Richie turned to look at Eddie, raising an eyebrow in the Tozier way of saying, “Really?”

Eddie sighed. “Fine. We can watch whatever moronic sitcom you were wanting to watch.”

“Great,” Richie said happily, choosing The Office. He looked over at Eddie who was decidedly not sulking. “We’ll watch the turtle thing soon, promise. It seems like something I need to be mentally prepared for.”

“No wonder you dropped out of college,” Eddie said snarkily, then immediately felt bad. He didn’t know if that was something Richie was sensitive about or not, but either way he shouldn’t have said it. But to his surprise, Richie just laughed and shifted on the couch until their knees were almost touching. He reached out and patted Eddie’s leg without looking away from the TV.

“It’s true, I sucked at school. You’re just too smart for me Eds.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at Richie’s large hand, warm on his leg, which he wasn’t moving away. “Shut up,” he muttered. “You’re plenty smart, you just don’t like to show it.”

Richie looked at him then. His gaze was soft and he still wasn’t moving his damn hand. “You get me better than anyone. How do you do that?”

Eddie shrugged. Richie must be tired if he was getting so sappy on him without being drunk. Suddenly, Richie’s phone buzzed causing them both to jump. Richie pulled his hand away from Eddie’s leg and picked it up, squinting at whatever text he had gotten.

Alcohol sounded very good to Eddie all of a sudden.

“Have anything to drink?” he asked. Richie looked away from his phone, smirking.

“I’m assuming you’re not talking about orange juice. And the answer is yes, of course. Who do you think I am Kasbrak? Didn’t you know all comedians are raging alcoholics?”

“Are they?” Eddie asked snidely. “I heard they were all depressed.”

“Eh, same thing.” Richie got up from the couch, phone forgotten. He patted Eddie’s head as he squeezed between him and coffee table. “Wine sound good?”

“It sounds great,” Eddie said surprised. He would have guessed that Richie was more of a beer drinker.

He stayed on the couch, listening to the sounds of Richie grabbing two glasses and pouring wine into them. It sounded like he was humming. He sounded happy.

Eddie had been observing Richie ever since he got there. He had been acting a little weird, but not really any more or less than usual. Truthfully, Eddie had expected to find Richie looking the way he had in that shitty recording, but he looked better. A lot better. He looked like he had more color to his cheeks, and his eyes were brighter. The under-eye bags were still there, dark and prominent, but he didn’t look like he was about to fall over. Eddie was relieved. Maybe that had just been a really bad day.

But Richie had mentioned nightmares and not being able to sleep. Eddie wondered if they were constant or if they came and went in waves, allowing him to get some sleep sometimes. Eddie hoped that was the case, but he would just have to ask Richie, even though he knew trying to get the truth out of him would be like pulling teeth. Richie was one of the most private people he knew. Eddie, however, was one of the most stubborn people he knew.

Richie appeared beside him then, handing him a glass of a dark, red wine. Eddie took it, then took a sip when Richie kept standing there, staring at him expectantly.

The tanginess spread across his tongue pleasantly. Eddie swallowed and it went down smoothly without the burn of the cheap wine that Myra bought for them. He hummed in appreciation, looking at the glass in surprise. “Richie Tozier! I never would have guessed you were such a wine connoisseur.”

Richie smirked proudly, sliding in front of Eddie to take his place on the couch again.   
“There’s a lot you haven’t guessed about me, Eddie Spaghetti.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Eddie to almost snort the wine he had just taken another sip of out of his nose.   
He choked and winced at the burn while Richie just laughed, doubling into himself with the force of it.

“Fuck, you looked so stupid,” he said when he could finally speak again, wiping the tears out of eyes.

Eddie just gave him the finger, scowling.

They finished their wine a little too quickly, laughing and insulting each other until it hit Eddie just how tired he really was.

“Rich?” he said through a giant yawn. “I should probably get to bed.”

“Oh.” Richie checked his phone, wincing at the time. “Right. I should too.” He sounded disappointed. “Let me get the pullout ready for you.”

Eddie retreated to the bathroom while Richie struggled with the couch. He could hear muffled curses even with the door closed. His nighttime routine took almost fifteen minutes so when he finally came out again, Richie had sheets, a blanket, and a pillow on the fold out bed. He was hovering near the bathroom door almost nervously, eyes lighting up when he saw Eddie. Now that was something that Eddie wasn’t used to. Usually people’s eyes lost their enthusiasm when they saw him. Most people in his life expected him to complain about something, or correct them on something, or just rattle on and on about shit nobody cared about. Even Myra quickly got tired of his presence. She never said so, but Eddie could tell. It hurt, but it was something he had gotten used to.

But ever since he had gotten here, Richie’s whole demeanor seemed to brighten when Eddie talked to him or gave him attention. Eddie had no idea why, but he knew it probably wouldn’t last, so he decided to enjoy it while he still could.

“Ready for bed, Eddie Spaghetti? Took you long enough.”

Eddie ignored the good-natured jab and nodded. The wine was really kicking in and he felt like he could barely keep his eyes open. He made his way over to the bed, but Richie kept hovering, his demeanor anxious.

“You’re giving me anxiety, Rich,” Eddie said sleepily. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Sorry,” Richie said. He opened his bedroom door and glanced back at Eddie one more time. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight, Richie,” Eddie said, flopping down on the bed. He heard Richie’s door shut firmly. He had hardly shut his eyes before he drifted off into sleep.

*****

Eddie woke up with a start, his heart pounding. He sat up and looked around Richie’s dark living room. He could have sworn something had woken him up, but there was only silence. Annoyed, Eddie laid back down again and closed his eyes only to open them up again with a snap when he heard what could only be Richie’s voice.

“No! No, Eddie,” Richie was gasping. He sounded terrified and his tone sent chills down Eddie’s spine. Why was he saying his name that way?

Eddie got up, tiptoeing towards Richie’s room. He wondered if he should knock on the door or try to open it and wake him up a little more gently. He opted for the second option and tested the doorknob. It turned, so he opened the door, peering inside the dark room. He could just see a quivering lump on Richie’s bed. Richie was tangled up in his sheets and was moaning, thrashing around in distress.

Eddie crept towards the bed, feeling like he was trespassing. When he got to Richie’s side hesitated for a second, then laid a hand gently on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

“Richie,” he said in a half-whisper. “Rich, wake up.”

Richie stirred again, but he opened his eyes this time, squinting up at Eddie. He probably couldn’t see him as much more than a blur without his glasses, but he seemed to know exactly who it was.

“Eddie,” Richie said again, his voice cracking. “Eddie, please stay with me. Don’t go.”

He was still half-asleep and probably didn’t know what he was saying, but Eddie’s heart ached at Richie’s plaintive request. He couldn’t bring himself to leave him like that, so without thinking about if it was a bad idea or not, Eddie crawled into the bed beside Richie.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pulling Richie closer to him. “I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

He rubbed a hand up and down Richie’s arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It must have been enough because Richie sighed, his eyes closing again. His head dropped to rest on Eddie’s shoulder who didn’t have the heart to move him.

Eddie stayed awake for a long time after that, but Richie didn’t stir again for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I hope everyone has a sufficiently spooky day.


	5. Chapter 5

**1990**

**Derry, Maine**

Richie didn’t know how his friends had convinced him to go to the stupid Valentine’s Day dance. None of them even had dates and it was lame to go to a dance without a date, everyone knew that. It was all Bev’s fault. It had been her idea to go and of course Ben and Bill had immediately said they would go too, then Stan and Mike because they had nothing else to do. It had taken some convincing on their part to get Eddie to go, but when he caved, Richie didn’t stand a chance.

So there he was. Standing by the bleachers in the darkest corner of the school gymnasium in a terrible mood and trying not to vomit at all the pink hearts surrounding him. He could see Bev dancing with Bill while Ben patiently stood to the side waiting for his chance. Mike and Stan were canvasing the refreshments table, swooping in for a kill every now and then, and Eddie…Eddie was nowhere to be seen. Richie frowned. Immediately, thoughts of Eddie being cornered and beaten bloody in a deserted hallway flashed across his mind. With them came unwanted memories of Eddie curled up against a wall, his arm limp and broken, the clown bearing down on him, laughing…

“Hey, Rich!”

Eddie’s voice snapped Richie out of it. He turned to look at Eddie, who had come up behind him, grinning.

“Fucking hell Eddie, you scared the shit out of me.” Richie’s frown deepened and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Why were you just staring into space like a creep?” he asked, looking in the direction that Richie had been. “You checking out Sally Perkins?” He looked at Richie suspiciously.

Richie didn’t even try to make a dirty joke. He just looked down at his feet, glaring at them as if his dirty sneakers were to blame for every shitty thing about his life.

“Naw, she doesn’t do it for me,” he said derisively, trying to sound rude just to tick off Eddie. “She’s too loud and she laughs too much.” He didn’t mention that there was also the slight problem that she was a girl and also not Eddie.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “So basically, you just hate joy, is that it? Face it Tozier, you’re already becoming an old man.”

“Pretty impressive for an old man to do what I did to your mom last night.”

Eddie made a strange noise akin to a squeal and swatted Richie on the arm.

“Fuck you.”

Richie shook his head, trying to hide his smile. His bad mood was already slipping away, crumbling to dust in the presence of Eddie with his stupid fanny pack that he even wore to a school dance, and his big, dark eyes that were looking at Richie with warmth… and fuck, Richie was becoming more and more screwed every day. He looked back towards the dance floor.

“Actually I was watching Bev and Bill.”

“Oh, yeah, poor Ben,” Eddie said, following his gaze. “It’s so obvious that he has a crush on her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Richie asked, absentmindedly. He felt Eddie turn to look at him.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” Richie turned to meet his gaze. It was intense and accusatory and Richie felt like it was rendering him immobile, pinning him in place.

“Have a crush on Bev?”

Richie frowned, thinking back on if he had ever done anything to make Eddie think that.

“No?” he said, confused. “Why would I?”

Eddie crossed his arms and looked at Richie as if he was crazy. “Because you just said that everyone has a crush on her.”

“Oh. Well, I meant everyone who…” Richie cut himself off, feeling his face turning red.

_I meant everyone who likes girls. _

He had almost said it. He had almost admitted that he was different. And if he did that then Eddie might guess.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away from Eddie’s. “I don’t. Have a crush on her that is. She’s great but,”

“She’s _Bev_,” Eddie finished. “I know, that’s how I feel too.”

That wasn’t really the problem, but Richie nodded, relieved that Eddie didn’t seem suspicious. But that was how Eddie was. He had always just accepted Richie’s weirdness in a way that nobody else had.

Richie scrambled to change the subject before he really said something he would regret. “So, are you glad that Bev swindled us into coming?”

“Are you kidding me? No! This sucks,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose. “The only good part is the food and that’s already almost gone. All of the pink and lovey-dovey shit everywhere makes me want to barf.”

“A man after my own heart.” Richie laughed, ruffling Eddie’s hair in the way that he knew he hated.

He was about to suggest that they get out of there, when Eddie opened his mouth then shut it, the tips of his ears going pink.

“What is it, Eds?” Richie asked, curious. Eddie didn’t get embarrassed often which was too bad because he was cute when he did.

Eddie scowled, scuffing his shoes against the gym floor. “You’re going to give me shit for it. It’s super lame.”

“I won’t!” Richie said, a little too quickly.

“Okay,” Eddie said slowly, studying his face with narrowed eyes. “But if you make fun of me I’ll never talk to you again.”

Richie just nodded and Eddie must have seen something in his expression because he visibly relaxed.

“Fine. I uh, I’ve always wanted to dance at one of these things. It just seem fun, you know.”

Richie bit down the many snarky remarks that came to mind, but he couldn’t resist one joke.

“Is that so?” he asked, smirking. “I never knew you were such a romantic, Eds.”

Eddie gave him the finger, his scowl returning in full force.

“Fuck you, Tozier. You wouldn’t know romance if it hit you in the nuts.”

“I can show you romance.” Richie moved his eyebrows up and down suggestively and pursed his lips, making kissing noises at Eddie.

Eddie groaned, fending Richie’s face off with his hands. He rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smile was playing at his lips. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Richie said, still grinning. “Why didn’t you invite someone if you wanted to dance so bad?”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged. He didn’t elaborate and Richie didn’t ask him to.

After a few moments of silence while they both watched their classmates dancing awkwardly, Richie cleared his throat.

“Hey, Eds. Wanna dance?”

Eddie whipped his head around to stare at Richie dramatically, eyes big.

“But it’s a slow dance.”

Richie’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure that Eddie could hear it. He swallowed, trying to school his face into an expression that would make it seem like he was still joking. “So? A dance is a dance. And this might be your only chance to fulfill your wish. I don’t see anyone lining up to dance with the two losers hiding in the corner.”

The cheesy love song that was playing swelled in the background and Eddie rolled his eyes, but stepped closer to Richie anyway.

“Fine. But I’m not dancing with you out there.”

“That’s fine,” Richie said, softly. He didn’t want everyone’s eyes on them anyways. They didn’t understand him or Eddie and they didn’t deserve to be a part of their friendship.

“Okay.” Eddie reached up awkwardly and put his right hand on Richie’s left shoulder. Despite the fact that he felt like he was going to pass out, Richie grinned.

“Oh so I’m the man in this relationship?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Eddie muttered. Their faces were close enough that Richie could feel his breath, warm on his face.

“Go ahead,” Richie said, gingerly placing his hand on Eddie’s waist. They began to sway in time to the music, neither boy really knowing what they were doing. “I’d rather you kill me than an evil clown.”

Eddie blanched and Richie immediately regretted saying it. He stopped their movement, letting go of his waist, but Eddie kept his hand on his shoulder.

“He can’t kill you. We killed him,” he said. His freckles were stark against his pale skin and his large brown eyes were filled with a question that Richie couldn’t answer.

“I know, Eds, I know. We killed him. I was just making a stupid joke.”

But Eddie began to shake against Richie, his breathing picking up until he was almost gasping.

“Woah, Eddie, slow down,” Richie said, gripping him by his shoulders and trying to make eye contact. “Where’s your inhaler?”

Eddie shook his head. “Left it at home,” he got out. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into Richie. “’M fine, just give me a minute.”

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, expecting to be pushed away, but he just sagged into it, resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie rubbed his back until Eddie’s breathing was close to normal and Richie breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you have your inhaler?” he asked, quietly.

“I don’t like carrying it around,” Eddie mumbled into his shoulder. “It makes me feel stupid.”

“Well, you really are stupid then. If it helps you, you should have it with you.”

Eddie just shook his head, although Richie wasn’t sure what he was disagreeing with. They stayed like that for a moment, until Eddie pulled away, his eyes flicking down sheepishly.

“Sorry I freaked out on you,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“I think if anyone has a good reason to be freaked out, it’s you,” Richie said.

Eddie shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing the arm that had been broken. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Bev will kill us,” Richie said, grinning. “So let’s go.”

He basked in the glow of Eddie’s smile and the knowledge that it was all for him.

Eddie never mentioned dancing again.

**2016**

**Los Angeles, California**

When Richie woke up, the sun was streaming through the window into his room and onto his pillow beside him. For a few moments, he just blinked blearily at the window in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up after the sun, or the last time he hadn’t woken up from a nightmare. He actually felt like he had slept.

Now more awake, Richie rolled over to grab his phone to see what time it was and rolled onto something that definitely wasn’t a pillow. Especially because whatever it was cursed and kicked him sharply under the sheets.

Richie froze. Having someone in his bed was also something that he wasn’t used to. He had never had a taste for hook-ups despite all of his boasting and dirty jokes in his comedy routines. The thought of it had always made him feel vaguely sick, no matter how horny he was. And he had never felt a real urge to be in a relationship with anyone, at least until about three months ago.

He shifted his body so he could see whoever was behind him, his heart pounding.

Eddie was in his fucking bed.

Richie desperately scrambled to remember what had happened the past night. He remembered watching TV and eating take out, laughing with Eddie, and drinking wine, but he hadn’t gotten drunk. And neither had Eddie, he was pretty sure. So, what the fuck was going on?

Richie’s leg was now trapped under Eddie’s, who hadn’t moved since kicking him. The smaller man was still fast asleep. Richie slowly and carefully reached out to grab his glasses without moving the rest of his body too much. He gritted his teeth, trying to stop his hand from shaking, but it persisted and he almost dropped his glasses onto the floor. Richie recovered and slipped them on, turning to look at Eddie. He couldn’t bring himself to quite believe it was him. He could be hallucinating again for all he knew.

But this Eddie didn’t have a bloody hole in his chest. This Eddie was curled up, facing away from Richie, his face slack and free from worry lines. He looked so peaceful that it made Richie’s heart clench. Eddie’s dark hair was splayed across the pillow, his skin glowing golden in the sunlight speckling across the room. Richie longed to thread his fingers through his hair and touch his skin and show Eddie just how much he meant to him.

But Richie just stared, his hand hovering in the air, afraid to touch. He didn’t know if he was allowed to. Eddie and Richie had always been more touchy-feely with one another than the others. The fact remained however, that Eddie was married. Despite the fact he had hardly mentioned Myra to Richie at all and he never spoke about her.

After a few moments of Richie being afraid to move, he decided to try and extract himself without waking up Eddie. He needed a long shower and, with a bit of luck, he could avoid the awkward conversation that would happen if Eddie woke up tangled up with him.

But luck was not on Richie’s side. As soon as he started to move his leg Eddie stirred in his sleep and shifted against Richie’s crotch.

The problem, was that his dick didn’t care that Eddie was married and shouldn’t be in bed with him. It just cared that he _was_ and it cared very much that his ass was rubbing on it and oh god, Richie had to get out of the situation before it got much, much worse.

He pulled his legs out from under Eddie’s in one fluid movement, slipped off the side of the bed and almost ran to the bathroom, not looking back to see if he had woken Eddie up. He locked the door behind him and reached for his phone to check what time it was only to realize that he had left it on his nightstand. He couldn’t risk going back out to get it so he started the shower, adrenaline making his skin buzz and his heart pound.

When Richie stepped under the water, he closed his eyes and let it run over him. He washed his hair, thinking about how he really needed to get it cut. The whole time he was trying to ignore his dick, but he hadn't gotten off in a while, so selfishly, he gave into the urge and palmed himself, groaning into his other hand. His fingers worked almost frantically, trying to give him release so he could dispel the lust that had built up to the point that it was painful. Between the night before and that morning, Richie hadn’t been so turned on in a long time.

He hadn’t realized how weak he still was for Eddie. Thirty fucking years and there had been nobody else. Even when he hadn’t remembered that Eddie even existed, he still couldn’t get over him. Richie’s life was a fucking comedy.

His hand picked up the pace, stroking his dick firmly. He was past shame at this point so he freely allowed himself to think about Eddie. About his pale, freckled skin and his hair, and his big, dark eyes. He thought about Eddie’s ass in his sweatpants and his bare chest from the night before. He imagined dipping a tongue into the hollows of those collarbones and kissing down Eddie’s chest and stomach until he got to that trail of hair, and then lower, lower…

Richie came with a moan that he barely stifled, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He stood there for a few more minutes letting the water wash the shameful evidence down the drain before he reluctantly turned off the shower and stepped out. He dried off and slipped back into his sweatpants and t shirt since he hadn’t had time to grab clothes. Then, he opened the door, slowly as he could and peeked out. Eddie wasn’t in his room anymore. The bed was as empty as it always was, except now it was meticulously made, and Richie’s clothes from the day before which had been thrown haphazardly on the floor were in his laundry bin.

Richie thought he might cry.

He opened the door the rest of the way and slipped into his room. He threw on a gray sweater, a pair of jeans and his glasses, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, checking the time. 10 AM. So he hadn’t slept in too late. It still felt luxurious compared to his usual wake up time of four in the morning.

Richie steeled himself and opened his door. He was immediately hit with the smell of eggs and bacon, which was impressive. Eddie must have really scrounged around in his fridge.

Eddie was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading something on his phone. There was two plates of food on the table and Richie had to swallow down his emotions so he could properly speak.

“Made yourself right at home I see,” he said, relieved that his voice sounded normal.

Eddie didn’t look at him but scrunched up his nose and raised his coffee mug towards Richie, a little bit sloshing over the side onto the table.

“Your coffee fucking sucks.”

Richie ignored the jab and sat down across from Eddie, pulling one of the plates to him.

“Thanks man, you didn’t have to do this.”

Eddie raised his head to look at him then, something like guilt in his eyes. “I know but I wanted to. You’re letting me stay here and all the food is yours. I just cooked it.”

“Still,” Richie said through a mouthful of eggs. “I haven’t cooked for myself in forever.” 

“You could hire a cook,” Eddie said. He was still looking at Richie a little strangely. “That’s what most celebrities do.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Shut up with that shit. I’m not a celebrity.”

Eddie sighed and looked down, his hands nervously fidgeting with the coffee cup. Richie’s heart dropped. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie asked, meeting Richie’s eyes again.

Richie's brain was quickly slipping into full-on panic mode. He mentally scrolled through a list of what Eddie could be talking about. It was pretty short and embarrassing.

Mercifully, before Richie could open his mouth and say something stupid, Eddie continued.

“You should have told me you were having nightmares about me.”

“I, uh,” Richie said eloquently. “How do you know?”

“Last night I heard you yelling and…saying my name. You sounded terrified.”

Everything began to click into place in Richie’s head. He really was a dumb ass. Why Eddie was in his bed. Why he had slept so well. Of course Eddie was the answer to his nightmares. He was always the answer when it came to Richie.

“That’s why you were in bed with me,” he said flatly.

Eddie blushed. “Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t really wake you up and you asked me to stay,” he said, his ears turning pink like they did when he was flustered. “It was probably pretty weird to wake up to.”

“Don’t apologize,” Richie said, leaning back. “I got the best sleep last night that I have in months. So I don’t care whatever freaky shit you did to me while I slept, it worked.”

Eddie snorted. “Gross, Rich.” He took another sip of his coffee and grimaced. “God this is disgusting.”

“Probably because I haven’t cleaned the coffee maker in like six months,” Richie said, grinning. Eddie stared at him in disbelief before gagging and pushing the cup away from him.

“You are so fucking disgusting. How are you still alive right now?”

Richie shrugged, cheerfully watching Eddie’s little freak out.

“Beats me.”

They bantered back and forth for a while until both their plates were almost empty and Richie had finished off Eddie’s abandoned coffee and poured himself another cup. Richie was standing up to take the dishes to the sink when Eddie cleared his throat. His gaze was serious.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Richie sighed, sitting back down. “Look, Eds, I’m not sure you want to know.”

Eddie gazed at him levelly. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“Fine,” Richie said, frustrated. “Fine. You know when…when I was caught in the deadlights.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, his face twisted into an unreadable expression. “Yeah, of course.”

“I saw…” Richie swallowed, not sure if he could get the words out. “I saw you…I saw you fucking die, Eds.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy. Eddie looked like he was processing Richie’s words so Richie stayed silent, letting him think.

Finally, Eddie just blinked and said, “Oh.” His voice sounded small.

“Yeah,” Richie said.

“Still, why the fuck did you wait until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to. Having nightmares about watching your best friend die when they’re still alive is pretty heavy shit.”

Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, you're not wrong. It’s just…this is why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Richie nodded. “I’ve been having them every single night since I got back.”

“Rich, I’m so sorry,” Eddie said. He sounded sincere and almost guilty. Richie glared at him.

“Oh no, you’re not doing that. This is not your fault, and you’re not going to be feeling guilty about something you can’t control. Not if I can help it.”

Eddie just looked down at the table, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Have you talked to Bev?”

“A little. She doesn’t really want to talk about it. I don’t blame her.”

“I still wish you had told me,” Eddie said, twisting his hands in his lap. “But I’m happy I’m here now.”

“Me too, Eds,” Richie said softly. “You have no idea how much.

Eddie smiled at him even as he said, “Don’t call me that," and flicked a piece of egg at Richie. It hit him square in the chest, making him yelp as little egg bits splattered his clean shirt.

“And you call me gross,” he grumbled, brushing himself off. “I forgot that you still act like a fucking child.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Richie muttered. “But I’m young at heart. You’re a crotchety, wrinkly old man at heart.”

Eddie laughed, picking up the dishes himself. His hand brushed Richie’s as he grabbed his plate and it sent tingles up Richie’s arm. He was reminded of his shower and shuddered. “You okay?” Eddie asked, pausing.

“Fine,” Richie said. “Just cold.” He shivered again for extra effect, then regretted it when Eddie gave him another look. When he turned away to take the dishes to the sink, Richie let out a breath, kneading his temples with his thumbs. He was going to need strength to get through Eddie’s visit without imploding in on himself and becoming just a black hole of thirty years worth of lust and longing.

There was no doubt about it. Richie’s life was a fucking comedy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter just because I wanted to get something posted. Sorry for the long delay in updating, college was kicking my ass, but now that finals are over, I'll be back to updating pretty regularly. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and I hope this sort of makes up for the long break!

At first Richie tried to pry Eddie away from the sink, but he quickly gave up and sat down to watch him attack the pile of dishes with a vicious determination. It was almost scary. 

“Hey,” he said after a minute of watching in fascination. “Go easy on my plates there, man.”

Eddie didn’t turn around but Richie could tell he was rolling his eyes. 

“I’m just making sure they’re clean. Some of these stains are scaring me.”

“You’re scaring me,” Richie mumbled, not taking his eyes off of Eddie’s back and the way his muscles tensed beneath his ugly polo shirt. It was pink today, and Richie had to admit that despite it making Eddie look like an upper-middle class divorced dad of six who owned a yacht, he pulled it off. A little too well. 

“If you would like to help, feel free,” Eddie shot back, finally looking over his shoulder at Richie. His large brown eyes looked tired and Richie felt a stab of guilt that that was probably his fault. He swallowed down the sarcastic retort that had been about to erupt from his lips and shrugged mildly. 

“Do you want help?”

“No,” Eddie said, turning back around. “I’m almost done, but thanks for the offer.”

Richie shook his head and wondered how he was so in love with someone who acted like a petulant child and a grumpy old man at the same time. He picked up his coffee mug and swirled it around, staring at the cold contents as if they held all the answers to life. “What did you want to do today?” he asked Eddie’s back. “Besides washing my dishes, I mean.”

“I thought you would have a plan, Mr. LA.” Eddie put the last dish on the counter to dry and grabbed a faded towel to dry off his hands. He paused, the hand towel still twisted in his hands, his shoulders slumped.

“Eds?” Richie asked in concern. He got up and went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Eddie sighed and shook his head, keeping his gaze on the towel in his hands. This close, Richie could see his individual eyelashes, each one long and dark. They curled up at the ends ever so slightly and he wondered how he had never noticed that before. Then, they fluttered and his trance was broken.

“I’m fine,” Eddie said. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Richie’s, and despite his words they were troubled. “I was just thinking about how weird it is. You in L.A., me in New York. I mean, when we were kids in Derry I never would have imagined that we’d end up like this. I always thought I’d be stuck there forever, you know? And I got out, and I should be grateful. But, somehow, this feels… Wrong. Like it wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Richie sucked in a breath. Eddie was looking at him with such vulnerability, his big dark eyes scared as they searched Richie’s for something. Richie felt paralyzed beneath his gaze.

“Eddie,” he said desperately. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

Richie didn’t know how to put into words that he felt the same way, that they weren’t meant to be living on opposite sides of the country, Eddie married, and Richie alone in this too-big apartment that had everything he needed, and at the same time, nothing at all. IT had fucked everything up. They were never supposed to forget one another and be apart for almost thirty years. Sure, Richie didn’t know if he would have ever gotten the courage to tell Eddie that he was his whole world, but he might have. He might have. 

Something in Eddie’s eyes told Richie that he had said the wrong thing. Just like he always did.

“Forget it,” Eddie muttered, looking away and setting down the towel on the counter. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I guess I just have a lot of regrets.” He laughed bitterly, the sound stabbing Richie’s heart. “Myra thinks I’m having a mid-life crisis.”

Richie reached out to grab Eddie’s arm, willing himself to say something,  _ anything _ that would make it better, but he stopped when Eddie suddenly went pale and winced. He grabbed his side, almost doubling over and Richie’s heart fell into his stomach, fear twisting his insides. Images of Eddie’s face, white as snow and smeared with blood flashed in front of his eyes and panic rose up in his throat, almost choking him as he grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, trying to get a look at his face.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” His voice was frantic, but Eddie just shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “Eddie,” Richie said again. His hands fluttered over Eddie’s which were still gripping his side. Richie realized with cold fear that it was the side that Pennywise had stabbed him in. “Eds, talk to me,” he said desperately.

Eddie opened his eyes then, and he straightened slightly, still leaning against the counter for support. Gingerly, he moved his hands from his side and grimaced, his cheeks darkening in embarrassment or shame.

“I’m…” he started, but anger rose in Richie’s chest, fueled by fear and frustration at himself.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me that you’re fine,” he said vehemently. “I know when you’re bullshitting me, Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie stared at him in shock. It was rare that Richie was genuinely pissed at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but only winced again, biting his lip in pain. All the anger drained from Richie as quickly as it had appeared and he grabbed Eddie’s hand to move it gently aside.

“Let me see?” he asked, squeezing Eddie’s hand in apology. Eddie looked up at him, eyes wide, but there was a gentle trust in them that Richie would never understand. He nodded and pulled his shirt up, so Richie could see the smooth skin of his side, only marred by a twisted scar that was a couple inches long and was currently an angry pink color. Richie swallowed, brushing it lightly with his fingertips. Eddie shivered at his touch, but it didn’t seem to hurt him. 

“Why is it hurting you?” he asked, drawing his hand away. Eddie dropped his shirt again, and looked down, shaking his head.

“I don’t know. It seems to flair up when I get…” He paused seemingly struggling for the right word. “Agitated.”

Eddie looked at him again and Richie realized that his hand was still on Eddie’s side and he pulled it away as if burned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I hate to say it, Eds,” he said much more lightheartedly than he was feeling. “But aren’t you agitated pretty much all the time?”

Eddie snorted and poked Richie hard in the stomach. “No, and fuck you too. It’s only when I’m upset about certain things. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Weird,” Richie said, trying to keep his worry out of his tone. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Do you need drugs or anything? I know a guy…”

“Shut up, Rich,” Eddie said, but he was smiling again. “Now are we going to do something or was your plan just to stand here and talk all day?”


End file.
